Flight Cancelled
by Gummy Dragons
Summary: England has a tea shortage and sets off to China to obtain some tea. What he doesn't know is that he boarded the wrong plane. Yaoi. AmericaXEngland
1. Chapter 1

"Flight Cancelled"

_A Hetalia: Axis Powers Fanfic_

_A/N: I started writing this story on paper while in math class, but I hope it's good anyways. Rated for mild language and suggestive situations. This is a yaoi fanfic (AmericaXEngland), so if you don't like yaoi, I suggest you leave right now. Thanks, and enjoy the story!_

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers, or any of its characters._

* * *

_Setting: **England's Manor**_

_Time: **Early in the morning**_

**_***_**

Tea. Nature's soft drink. Best served hot and steaming and, of course, rich with only the finest cream. Just a dash of sugar and it would be-...

"What?!" an obviously peeved man yelled as he dug through his kitchen cabinets. His tousled, dirty-blonde hair was splayed in all directions from having just woken up, and his forest green eyes jumped erraticaly from shelf-to-shelf searching for what wouldn't be found.

Finally, with a snarl of disgust, he slammed the cabinet doors closed and spun to stalk off in the direction of the kitchen.

He wanted to get down to this, and he wanted to do it now.

The cook was startled into dropping a bag of flour as the man burst in, almost ripping the wooden half-doors off of their hinges.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kirkland! It won't happen again!" the cook squeaked, hasting to dust the man off with her flour-y hands (which wasn't much of a help to begin with).

"Never mind that!" Arthur Kirkland spat, siezing an empty teabox from a nearby counter and thrusting it in the female's face (so much for being a gentleman), "Do you know what this is?!"

The cook's eyes widened, the epitome of the saying "looked like a deer in headlights".

"I-I believe that's a teabox, sir," she stammered.

"Yes, but an _empty _teabox! Tell me, what is the meaning of this?!"

It seemed that the cook was too terrorized to answer, for she kept moving her plump jaw as if she was attempting to speak, but still no words came out.

Seeing that she wasn't going to be much help, Arthur decided to take matters into his own hands.

***

The book fell open with a soft thump of leather binding on his desk. Arthur switched on his reading lamp and ran his index finger along under the words "Recent Trades and Goods Acquired".

"Let's see... America, Japan, Russia, Germany, Italy, France..." he murmured under his breath in a huffy way. His finger paused at the last name on the list, under which there was nothing but a blank line.

There were only a few moments of silence before the book was hurled carelessly at the wall. "Confound it!" Arthur roared, kicking his chair back and storming out of the room, not even bothering to switch the lamp off or pick the book up, "Those twats forgot to trade with China, again!" (Those twats, referring to his superiors).

He breathed a bit in between complaining to shrug into a long, green waistcoat with a crisp, plaid pattern and to wrap a scarf the color of a worn army uniform around his neck. Right before he walked out of the door, he jerked something metallic out of his coat pocket and dialed some numbers into its keypad, placing it next to his ear.

After a few rings, a friendly voice picked up the phone.

"Ni hao, aru?"

"China!" Arthur said into the phone, his voice firm and serious.

The voice on the other side replied back in a shocked voice. "Oh, England! What is it? Is America calling another meeting again, aru?"

Arthur shook his head, even though he knew that China couldn't see him. "No, it's not that," he said quickly, trying to get straight to the point, "Do you have any tea?"

"Yeah, we just got some fresh bags of green tea in yesterday along with assorted black teas, aru." China answered cheerfully.

It was all Arthur could do to keep his mouth from watering. He cleared his throat hastily and began to speak to China again. "Great. How fast can you have it shipped over here?"

There was a pause in which the person on the other end of the phone was apparently talking to others in the background, then a slight crackling sound as the phone was shifted back up to the speaker's mouth.

"So, how long will it take?" Arthur repeated impatiently.

"Normally, it would take about three days with some of the fastest shipping, but-" he cut off.

"But?" Arthur pressed.

"-But, currently, all trading routes are shut down due to a recent terrorist threat, aru." China explained in an apologetic tone.

Arthur bit his lip. This was so frusterating! "And your airports?"

"They're open, I believe, aru." China said thoughtfully, "Why?"

There was the answer he was looking for. He would go to the airport, board the quickest flight to China, and finally get his tea! "I'll be there in a day." he announced into the phone.

"Huh? Wait-" China had started to say, but it was too late because Arthur, in his haste, had already shut the phone. The dial tone began to hum.

* * *

_A/N: Alright! That's it for Chapter 1! I hope everyone liked it! It might be a little slow in the beginning at first, but I have great plans for this story. This may be my first yaoi fanfic, but I think it'll turn out well. Rate and review!~_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Welcome back to "Flight Cancelled"! Thank you for continuing on to the next chapter~ Once again, rated for mild language and suggestive situations. And again, this is a yaoi fanfic (AmericaXEngland)._

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters!_

* * *

_**Setting: **The International Airport of England_

**_***_**

The noise of the airport was unbearable. The various screeches, squeals, and squeaks of the people dragging their rolling luggage behind them pounded against Arthur's throbbing head as the headache worsened. He squeezed his eyes shut, massaging his temples with his own luggage-free hands.

It was at times like this that one would wish that he could freeze time, temporarily halting the lives of the others around him while simultaneously continuing with his own.

But he knew that no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, nor how hard he rubbed his fingers into his head, he couldn't stop the people or, better yet, make them disappear altogether.

As he navigated the way through the airport, he got a few strange looks. He figured it was probably due to his obvious lack of luggage; well, that, or due to the fact that he looked like a zombie straight out of "Night of the Living Dead".

Absentmindedly, he reached into his coat pocket that didn't contain his cellphone and drew out a small slip of thick paper with flight information and a time printed in bold directly in the center. According to the ticket, his flight was number 34A, a direct route-as well as first-class- to China.

"Should be simple enough..." he mumbled, coming up on the large digital sign that displayed all of the flights that would be departing from the airport that morning.

Utterly and terribly wrong.

The sign may not have been too large, but the small, red words and numbers that flitted acrosst it definately weren't large, either.

This certainly wasn't doing anything to help his mood, which was approaching a marker that existed even past outraged every minute that went by.

Finally giving up at the mercy of the sign, the Britt marched up to the customer service desk where the clerk was having an animated leisure conversation with a man who was identifiably an Italian.

Great. It was the convenience store episode all over again.

"No way! So then what happened?" The clerk was asking in an annoying, high-pitched voice that rivaled only with the sounds of the luggage.

"Well, I told Alfredo; Alfredo, I says 'Why not replace your carpet with tile? I mean, who's ever heard of carpeting in a kitchen before?' And Alfredo said-"

Arthur had stopped listening to the Italian's babbling long before then. His patience was finally shot. He was tired of being polite. So, he shoved himself to the front of the line, and in turn recieved quite a few dirty looks.

Once at the front, he slammed his palms down on the cool marble of the counter, causing both the clerk and the Italian to jump a bit. "Sorry to interrupt your important conversation," he whispered irritably in an overly-polite voice, "but I need to know where my flight terminal is."

Slapping the ticket down in front of her seemed to get the girl clerk into gear and she hastily fumbled to pick it up and scan her eyes acrosst it. When she had finished, she looked up with a frown, nervousness in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that flight's been cancelled," she answered slowly, carefully choosing her words.

By now, Arthur should've been used to this. He knew it was foolish to think this, but he couldn't help to think that perhaps tea had some magical property of luck that was why he'd been having nothing but bad luck since he'd ran out. Yes, it had to be that.

"Alright, then. Is there any way possible to exchange it for another available flight?"

"I can check," the clerk answered, backing away from the counter to disappear into a back room.

Arthur drummed his fingertips on the counter as he waited for her to return, and while he was doing this, he felt the prescence of eyes on him. A glance to the side revealed who's eyes they were.

Apparently, the Italian hadn't gotten the message to buzz off and take his jabber elsewhere. So, being the gentleman that he was, Arthur thought he could help him further grasp the clue.

"So, what did Alfredo say next?" he asked in a growling tone, his thick brows furrowed, making him look truly pissed off.

The Italian gulped, uttered a slight yelp and, finally, retreated with the British country smirking happily after him.

A few other people left the line also, for England without his tea was almost as scary as Russia.

...**_Almost_**

"Alright, there is only one other flight scheduled to leave to China today..." she looked at her watch, "Actually, it should be leaving right now." she finished matter-of-factly.

"Well then hand me the bloody tickets and tell me where to go!" he yelled, her all-too-relaxed voice grating at his battered nerves.

The girl obeyed, seeming equally eager to get the irritable and maybe even slightly insane man out of her hair. "The terminal is down the right hall and the third one on your left." she informed.

He took off with nothing so much as a thank-you. It was a wonder that the girl had even managed to get hired.

The passageway to the airplane was just being closed as he dashed up to the terminal the clerk had described. "Hold the plane!" he ordered, revealing his ticket to the lady at the podium in front of the passage.

She took his ticket, ripped the stub off, then paged in to the pilot with a speaker. "Let the man through." she barked back at the passageway supervisors whom immediately parted to let him through.

Once he got in, he settled down into the 3rd class seat (having been too late to acquire first class) for the next grueling 12 hours in which he would be kicked in the back by some annoying little brat, denied beverages from the flight attendants, and sleep for hours on end.

* * *

_A/N: Alright! End of Chapter 2! The next chapter is sure to be a funny one, so stick around!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here's chapter 3 hot off the press! Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any of its characters!_

**

* * *

**

_**Setting:China??? (*cough* America*cough*)**_

*******

The old,famous line from the movie, Wizard of Oz, ran through his head the minute England stepped into the airport.

Yes, he definately was not in English territory anymore. As a matter of fact, he wasn't sure if he was even in China.

"China sure has changed since I've last been here..." he murmured as he began through the airport.

This airport was about the same size as his own airport, but it was jammed full with tons more people, like a toybox overflowing with stuffed animals... or a teapot overflowing...

Arthur shook his head to snap himself out of it. But, wait... maybe he **didn't** have to snap himself out of it. With a little luck, he was **sure** to be able to find a place here that had tea!

So, he set off in search of a place that had tea, but... _Every damned corner has some sort of fast-food restaurant, but I still can't find a single tea shop!_ he seethed in his mind, passing what must've been the one-billionth McDonalds in the place.

It was incredible that there was even room for the luggage disposal carousel in between the crowded floorspace.

He sped up his walking with the mentality that the faster he walked, the faster he could find his destination. And there it was; nestled between a Burger King and a Wendys was a tiny coffee shop. It wasn't the kind Arthur was used to, but it would have to do.

The scent of strong coffee assaulted him as soon as he entered into the dimly-lit room. There was a chalkboard sign that instructed for customers to seat themselves set diagonal to the entryway. If Arthur wasn't so desperate for tea of any kind, he would've walked out right then, but instead found himself sliding into a chair at a table near the tinted cafe window.

The waitress behind the counter, whom was occupying herself by painting her fingernails bubblegum pink, glanced up and, upon seeing him, sprang to her feet with a menu in hand.

"Hello, sir, what may I get-"

"Black tea, Earl Grey," he cut her off flatly.

The girl blinked a bit, but put the menu down on his table and trotted off to the kitchen after calling over her shoulder for him to look at the menu while he was waiting.

Arthur's eyes, a stormy forest green, glowered down at the menu, which was now smudged with nailpolish. He browsed through the menu, lingering on every word to stall time and, finally, the girl came back with a circular tray balanced in her palm; the contents on it: his tea, a sugar dish, and a dish of cream.

"Here you go, sir. Hope you enj-"

"Thanks, I will." The waitress frowned, unhappy with being interrupted, but set down the tray and went back to finish her nails.

Despite the irking atmosphere, the Englishman had to admit that the tea was actually halfway decent. He hadn't been expecting much, but he wondered why since he was supposed to be buying tea from China.

Last sip gulped, Arthur signaled the waitress whom came over to distribute his check to him.

Three dollars and fifty cents.

Tea was more expensive here than he'd imagined as well. But, despite that fact, he still handed over the money to the girl.

"Thankyouhaveaniceday!" she blurted, taking the money and talking so fast so that he couldn't interrupt her this time.

"Oh, and one more thing-" he called at the waitress' back. She turned around, obviously having just finished an eye-roll.

"Yes, sir?" she asked in a sugar-sweet voice.

Arthur wasn't phased.

"Can you tell me how I get to Beijiing from here?"

The girl made a strange face that made her look like a confused pig.

"Uhm, either swim or fly accrost the ocean." she answered sarcastically.

_'Thank God for mediocre tea.' _Arthur thought in relief, his mood considerably brightened. He tried again.

"We're in China, are we not?"

The girl placed one freshly nail-painted hand on her hip in a sassy gesture. "That's just it; we're not."

Arthur was about to kindly explain to this poor, location-confused girl when she cut in before he could straighten things out.

"We're in America. Maybe you ought to get your car's GPS fixed, _sir_." The last word was whined in a snotty tone.

The dirty blonde gritted his teeth to keep from retorting an equally smart-alek comment and thought over what she had said.

'_First of all, that isn't even possible because I didn't drive here. Second of all, I don't own a GPS. But, of course, I'm sure they all have GPSs in this Amer-..." _Arthur stopped thinking, his mind possibly went into shock at the end of his last thought as everything fell into place.

America. He was in _America._ Out of all places.

Without even saying another word, Arthur got up and speed-walked out of the shop in a flustered frenzy, his head swiveling side-to-side as he searched for a payphone (in his hurry, he'd somehow lost his cellphone at the other airport).

The coin clinked as it hit the bottom of the inside of the payphone and there was a static sound to signal the phone had cut on.

The keys on the phone were sticky and the "2" button kept getting stuck, but Arthur finally managed to get the person he wanted on the line.

"Hello?" A voice asked from the other end of the line. It was so muffled that the "hello" had sounded more like "Hurrow?".

_'Typical, eating a burger again, no doubt. It's not **my **fault if that twat gets obese.' _England thought with a sigh.

"America, it's England," he said, trying to make sense of the other nation's hamburger-babble.

"Engraaand!" Alfred cheered on the other side, "What's up?"

"'What's up' is that I'm stuck in one of your airports in God-knows-what city."

"Aw, you were coming to pay me a surprise visit?" he teased.

Arthur could just picture his stupid, clueless smile on his face even though they were only talking over the phone.

Strangely enough, he felt a bit of heat come to his cheeks and saw in the metallic side of the payphone stand that he was blushing ever-so-slightly.

_'Why am I blushing?' _He thought in a panicked shock '_He's my little brother, so why would I be so embarrassed at his eagerness for me to come visit him?'_

"England?" Alfred asked, trying to make sure that the other country was still on the line.

"Yes, I'm still here." he replied back quickly, just noticing the awkward silence.

"So what'd ya call me for?"

"Well I-" Arthur started, but was cut off by an obnoxious slurping sound blaring into his ear from the phone, "What are you-?"

The slurping sound stopped and there was a soft _plunk _as something was set down.

"So, you need a place to stay?" Alfred suggested all-of-a-sudden.

The blush returned to his cheeks when he tried to answer, the words caught in his throat for a second before he could finally manage to stammer them out.

"J-just until I can save up the money to get a flight back to England or China."

Alfred chuckled a bit at him, but he didn't dare point out the other's apparent nervousness.

"Alright, then! It's a date!" he sang.

The back of Arthur's neck turned red at the word "date" and he mentally began to scold himself.

It was just another word to say an appointment. His brother didn't think of him in any other way than what he was- a sibling. But the way Alfred was acting, unusually more cheerful around him than before, even, made him wonder.

England forced himself to catch his thoughts; they were starting to run away without him. No, his brother didn't feel the same way about him and, certaintly, nor did he.

* * *

_A/N: End of Chapter Three! Next chapter will be in which Arthur arrives at Alfred's house! Bear with my slow updating pace!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Here it is, folks! It's the ever-anticipated fourth chapter! Enjoy (and don't be afraid to give me suggestions or constructive criticism)!~_

_Disclaimer for this chapter and the last one: I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters!_

_Now that that's overwith, onward!~_

* * *

**_Setting: In front of America's House- 2:00p.m. (yes, I calculated the time starting from 7 a.m. in England + the 12 hour flight, minus however many hours time difference (I looked on my phone's world clock XD)_**

**_***_**

He should have expected it.

He **really **should've expected it.

Before he had called a taxi and begun his way to where he was now, America _had _told him that his house had undergone some remodeling, but he'd never expected anything _this _extreme.

So what could he do but get out and gape when the taxi screeched to a stop in front of what looked to be an **exact** replica of the White House from the outside.

"There's no damn way..." Arthur whispered in what was a mixture of awe and disapproval.

He checked the address again. Nope, he was definately in the right place (for once in the past two days).

"What'll he do next- build a replica of the Statue of Liberty?" he muttered to himself as he slammed the taxi door shut and walked down the sidewalk that bridged over the freshly-cut lawn to the front door.

Alfred answered the door unpon the second knock. Either he'd been expecting him, or he'd made replicas of White House cameras, also.

Arthur decided to bet on the second one, judging by the other's lack of proper clothing.

"England, you caaame!" America yelled in joy like he used to when England came to visit when he was little, not even aware of the way his being in only shorts and lacking a shirt made it awkward.

Arthur, who'd suddenly seemed very preoccupied with his feet, was looking sheepish for his brother, but couldn't feel that way for long because America pulled him abruptly into a giant bear-hug whilst giving him a noogie.

"A-America! I c-can't b-breathe!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath in the chokehold.

But, despite his protesting, England had to admit there was a side of this position that made it kind of nice. What with the scent of America so tempting to his nose and the utter closeness of their bodies... The way their chests touched that made him able to feel the other's warmth.

The rapidness of Alfred's noogie slowed down and, for a second, it almost seemed that his intention was to try to prolong the moment. Arthur would've pulled away on his own if Alfred hadn't first. He'd made a pact to himself. No matter what, he wouldn't admit to the other man that he had any emotions other than the normal towards him. And, as all good things must come to an end, they broke apart from the embrace.

Arthur didn't dare look up at Alfred's face. He was so quickly realizing his true feelings after all this time, but he was afraid that if he looked up and America didn't have the same look on his face as he had, he didn't know if he would be able to handle it. Things were so confusing to him right now; it was frusterating.

It was Alfred, of course, who finally broke the silence much like he'd broken the hug.

"So, shall we enter, Mr. President?" he joked, stepping back in the doorway and to the side to gesture in a broad, and unneccessary, way towards the interior of the house.

England, struggling with all his might not to blush, gladly cooperated for the sake of a distraction.

America closed the door behind them and switched into tour-guide mode, giving him the grand tour of the house.

With all of the grandeour and splendor of the outside gardens and house appearance, Arthur almost expected for the inside of the house to be equally well-kept... But, then again, it _was _Alfred that they were talking about.

After the long and tedious tour of one cluttered room after another, Arthur thought he might collapse in relief as they arrived in the last room.

"-and this will be your bedroom!" Alfred finished cheerfully, "Or you could stay in the "Blue Room" if you want, but no old guy ever actually died in there." he finished with a grin. Only America was the kind of person who usually smiled no matter what, even at the death of his country's past president.

"No, no, this room's fine." he assured earnestly. He thought he wouldn't make it if he walked even another step.

"Great!" America grinned in a pleased way, "The nearest bathroom is just down the hall, and my bedroom is just a door down if you need me! I'll leave you to settle in!" And he disappeared down the hall before England could even stop him.

There was some sense of comfort in the fact that the other country would be right next door, and as he lie down on the bed and closed his eyes to rest a bit he unintentionally drifted off into sleep.

*******

England's dreams consisted of the usual: fairy tales, magical creatures, and happy endings.

There was only one main difference in his dream - this time there was a knight.

For the longest time in his dream, the knight's face seemed oddly obscured. There was always something in the way, such as a branch of a tree, or the shadow over his face caused by his helmet, which was topped with a whispy fluff of a feather.

Just as he was beginning to get aggravated, he finally managed to get close enough to the knight to really look up into his face. His eyes widened as he was picked up into the strong arms of the knight and realized that he was looking straight into the face of America.

*******

Arthur jolted awake and sat on the bed, his legs crossed and cheeks red from the cold sweat he'd broken into in his sleep.

He awkwardly fumbled his hand along the nightstand beside the bed until he found the lamp-switch.

The light flickered on, spreading a warmth over the walls of the green-walled room.

Arthur sat there and panted a bit, then realized that part of the reason he'd begun sweating was due to the warm covers which were tucked tightly around his body.

_'I don't remember going under the covers before I fell asleep..' _he thought perplexedly. Then, he thought of the only people in the entire house - he and his next-door roommate.

The only conclusion he could come to was that Alfred had slipped in and tucked the covers around him during the time he was asleep.

Arthur rubbed his eyes and brushed the sleeve of his green army outfit along his forehead to remove the sweat. He wondered, idly, what time it was and located the alarm clock next to the lamp.

7:00 a.m.

He'd fallen asleep at around 3:00 p.m. yesterday after the hour-long house tour, so he'd slept sixteen entire hours. The jetlag of trans-country travel had finally caught up with him last night, he figured.

Fully-rested and too antsy to remain in the room, Arthur threw his legs over the side of the bed and got up, swaying slightly from the drunkeness of too much sleep.

His door had been left open, so he walked right out it. America's room's door was closed, so Arthur headed downstairs, able to maneuver normally in a large house like this because of his own.

Half-way down the stairs, a clanging sound caught him off-guard and England almost jumped out of his skin.

'_Bloody hell... what was that? A burglar?!' _he thought, freezing cautiously in his steps. When his head wasn't blown off, he cautiously continued down the stairs and peeked around the nearest corner where the sound had come from.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Not a burglar. America trying to cook.

At the sound of his sigh, the blonde at the stove turned around to face him in slight surprise.

"Hey, England!" he greeted, "How did you sleep?" he paused, "What are you doing? Spying on me again?~"

England straightened, a look of embarrassed denial on his face.

"Again?! What do you mean by that?! You bloody pervert!" he yelled back.

'_Damn, that must've been what it looked like...' _he thought.

"If **I'm **the pervert, then why are you blushing so hard?" Alfred teased, while stirring something in a large, white mixing bowl.

"Sh-shut up!" Arthur stammered, pacing over to the taller man and snatching the bowl from him, "What is this?" he demanded, trying to change the subject.

Alfred undid his apron and hung it over the back of a chair.

"Well, I was making mix for French Toast..." he murmured.

"Ugh, why would you want to eat something that originated in **him**?" Arthur said disdainfully as he set the bowl down.

"Well, I wasn't really making it because of that, but..." he started, "Wait! I have an idea!" he blurted suddenly, slapping his fist into his palm in excitement, "You can cook something, Iggy! Just like the good ol' days!"

"Me...?"

"Yeah! I used to love your cooking when I was little!... I think..."

Arthur made a crooked smile as Alfred added on his 'I think...' at the end. The kid had never had a good taste for food (which was also the reason he ate so much fast food, he figured), but if he wanted him to cook, he would cook.

"Alright, then. I'll make scones," Arthur decided, fetching the apron Alfred had been wearing and pouring the French Toast mix down the sink.

A few sounds from the fire alarm and a burnt bowl of scones later, the two men sat down to evaluate their results.

"Well, we did it..." America said in a forced happy voice.

"Yeah..." England muttered unenthusiasticly.

"Well," Alfred tied a napkin around his neck and plopped a thouroughly-blackened scone on his plate, "Bon Appetit'..."

"Alright..." Arthur said, mimicking the other. And, together, they both bit in to the singed pastries with loud crunches.

"It's...", '_Completely disgusting!' _," D-delicious!" Alfred bluffed, trying to chew the abomination in his mouth as best as possible without letting it touch his tongue.

Arthur's eyes lit up as he swallowed his own bite, unphased.

"You really think so?!" he asked, his face radiant.

Alfred half-way wanted to tell Arthur the truth so he wouldn't have to eat anymore of his blood-curdling confections, but the expression on his older brother's face was so adorable, he couldn't stand to break it to him.

_'I guess this is what you call "taking one for the team"...'_

Still, it was sorta nice to have someone else besides him in the large house, whether they were a bad cook or not. And, as he looked over at his overjoyed brother, he thought he could live with it.

* * *

_A/N: Well, how did you guys like it? I was laughing at some parts as I wrote it, so I hope you guys think it's as funny as I do! Stay tuned for the mishaps of upcoming Chapter Five!_


	5. Chapter 4 and a Half

_A/N: Alright, so this is called "Chapter 4 1/2" because it's not really technically big enough to consider a full chapter. Plus, it wouldn't fit into the next section without making it really long, and that would be weird having a gigantic chapter all of a sudden! However, I'm proud to announce that this now marks a new level for me as a fanfiction writer! The farthest I've ever gotten is to Chapter 4. So, if you guys keep giving me enough encouragement, I'll make sure to keep turning out the story! If not, then I won't feel motivated to write anymore, so keep up your wonderful comments!_

**Disclaimer: **I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters!

* * *

**Setting:** America's House, Bowling Alley

* * *

"Yeah! I got a spare again!"

England sighed, his fist was slowly sinking into his cheek and his head nodded to one side.

"How many has that been, now?" he called to America, whom was picking a bowling ball out of the bowling ball return.

It wasn't that he gave a care about the American pastime in itself, it was the one playing it that mattered to him, so he was doing his best to seem interested.

"I dunno, maybe the twenty-fourth?" America guessed as he lifted up a ball with an American flag printed on it.

"Is that good?" England asked, his hand had now sunken so far into his cheek that it turned his talking into a mumble.

"Yeah," he replied, swinging his arm back and gliding a graceful step forward before he released the ball onto the glossy wood of the bowling lane.

This time, there was apparently a slight spin on his throw, because instead of knocking down all of the pins, two remained - directly on opposite sides of the lane and in the same row.

America turned back to England with a searching expression that unnerved him a bit. Despite Alfred's acting, he was actually quite perceptive.

"Hey, Iggy, why don't you come play with me? I'm getting kinda tired of playing by myself," he offered, but it didn't seem as if he was expecting Arthur to accept, Arthur could tell that much by his tone of voice.

"That's alright, I'm fine. You're really good at this," Arthur replied, averting his eyes purposefully from his companion's.

Alfred frowned and ignored his ball when it was returned to the bin. Instead, he made his way over to England and bent down a little to rest his elbows on the counter of the bowling bar.

"You're not having fun, are you?" he asked, his voice seeming more worried than dejected.

This startled Arthur's brain back into the present from its previous bored, sleepy state.

"What? No, of course I'm having fun!" Arthur lied smoothly.

Alfred's eyes were burning holes through him - giving off an icy-hot feeling.

Dammit, he wasn't buying it.

"I mean, it's great! I really like watching you play... ah..."

"Bowling," Alfred offered, frowning.

Meanwhile, Arthur was cursing at himself in his head.

_'Bloody idiot! That didn't sound convincing at all!'_

"-anyways, it's getting late." Alfred's voice interrupted, followed by the sound of his bowling ball being replaced in a long line of balls.

Arthur glanced up at the neon wall-clock.

The hour hand rested a little past the "11" marker and the minute hand creeped steadily towards the "6"; it was a race of the tortise and the hare.

"Alright. I guess I'll head off to bed..." he grumbled, grabbing his discarded green army jacket and swinging it over his shoulder.

"I'll be right behind you." Alfred murmured thoughtfully, plopping back down into one of the many swiveling bowling chairs.

Arthur looked back at him for a minute, watching him slump over into the "Thinker" pose, then turned again and headed to the elevator that would take him to the second level where his room was, a small smile on his face.

Whatever he was up to, it would have to wait until morning.

***

He had the dream again; the dream in which Alfred, his brave knight, scooped him up into his sturdy arms and cradled him dearly.

But, wait! Instead of being woken up, this time the dream continued!

His conscious mind was studying the dream greedily, yearning for the dream to happen faster so that it'd end before he woke up.

The dream versions of himself and Alfred were leaning in, now. They were so close that their very breath was causing each other's bangs to rustle gently against their foreheads. Eyes closed, the two tilted their heads to the side and their lips parted. Just a few more inches and their lips would-

"Iggy... Iggy... Iggy..." a voice said pesteringly.

No. Nononononono! "You've got to be kidding me!" he wanted to scream as his brain kicked into gear- woken up.

"Iggy?" the voice asked again, "Iggy, are you awake?"

Arthur moaned and rolled over. "I am, now." Grumbled and slurred groggily. He rubbed his eyelids. "What do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep..." A pause, "Do you think I could sleep with you?"

"Sure, whatever..." England said without thinking.

Burying his face back into his pillow, he was almost to sleep again when the springs in the mattress squeaked. His brain snapped to attention. Someone had gotten into bed with him.

Slowly, he dragged the pillow off of his face and turned his head to the side.

"Hi!~"

"Aaah!" Arthur yelped, thrusting his pillow into the bed-invader's face.

"Bed-Invader" began flailing and blabbering words into the pillow that were impossible to make out.

The voice, however, was.

Arthur relented in his pillow-smothering and threw the puffy "weapon" to the side where it slammed, harmlessly, into the wall.

Just as he had thought. It was none other than the country of the stars and stripes. Up close, personal, and wide-eyed.

"I-Iggy!" the startled nation spluttered, "Why'd you try to strangle me?!"

"What else was I gonna do?! Someone comes in during the middle of the night and gets into my bed and I'm supposed to welcome them?!"

The younger country made a pouty face.

"But, you said that I could-"

"I don't care what I said, you twat! Get out of my room!" Arthur hissed as he pushed Alfred off and towards the door.

Alfred whirled around to face Arthur, palm pressed to the wooden door desperately in an attempt to keep the door open against his older sibling's force.

"But, Iggy, I had a night-"

England used his last bit of strength against the door.

SLAM!

"-mare..."

America stared at the shut door for a minute then, dejectedly, returned to his room.

As he crawled back into his bed he wondered, idly, whether his brother hated him just like he let on.

But, the past day that the Britt had spent with him... he'd really felt as if their relationship was becoming a little less rocky. But had it just been all in his mind? It almost seemed as if Arthur was closing himself up again, like he was purposefully putting a barrier up between them.

Pulling the covers up to his chin, he kept thinking about that notion, mulling it over in his head.

But he couldn't go to sleep, the nightmares made sure of that...

The springs of the mattress protested loudly as England pulled himself back into the bed. He was sure it was squeaking at him; reprimanding him for what he had done.

Nightmares? Those were what little kids had- mere children. A grown man shouldn't be having them. Alfred would just have to toughen up and get through it on his own! At least, this is what he was trying, stubbornly, to convince himself...

It wasn't working.

_'It'll be better when he goes back to sleep. He's not a little kid anymore...' _he repeated to himself in his mind again.

He closed his green eyes, dark in the dim lighting of only the alarm clock.

Arthur turned on his left side, then his right, back, belly, he even tried hanging his head over the side of the bed, his body horizontal, but nothing would work.

"Confound it, Alfred!" England finally yelled through gritted teeth as he punched his poor pillow.

Huffily, the Englishman slid out of bed and marched toward the American's room. He burst into the room without knocking and his eyes caught Alfred's face, almost submerged under the covers, but wide awake.

"Get up; you're coming with me." Arthur ordered, grabbing a pair of wrinkled, brown pants off of Alfred's completely buried bedroom floor and throwing them at him.

Alfred sat up and caught the pants in his arms, then his eyes- impossibly blue- flickered up to Arthur's face, curious, with his mouth slightly open.

"Don't gawk! Haven't I taught you any manners?!" Arthur retorted at his expression. He knew he was blushing again, now, as his face got hot, but he also knew that America was dumb enough that he would probably just take it for a flush of anger instead of nerves.

"You really want me to come with you...?" Alfred asked softly, so soft that England could've sworn in that short instant he'd become a child again.

Arthur snorted. "Why else would I bother coming into a train-wreck of a room like this?" he answered in reply, trying to sound angry and, as far as he could tell, he was succeeding.

The younger boy blinked a few times in response, then clambered out of bed and began towards his brother.

"Wait a minute and put on your pants, first!" Arthur snapped a little too quickly, pointing at the article of forgotten clothing on his bed.

Alfred honestly had **no idea** why Arthur would request something as silly as that, but obediently went back and retrieved the pants.

"Now, put them on. I'm tired of waiting on you. I'll be in my room."

Alfred nodded his head in acknowledgement as Arthur's back disappeared out the door, then followed after him only after he'd pulled his pants on over his American flag boxers.

It was dark and silent when he arrived in the room next door. Alfred assumed, by the quietness and the vague shape of a human figure under the bed covers, that England had fallen asleep.

Soundlessly, he tiptoed over to the unoccupied side of the bed- the right if you were facing it from the front- and paused before he was about to climb into the covers.

He wondered if this was really alright; if he hadn't just imagined, from his desires, that Arthur had invited him to sleep with him.

A gruff, irritable voice from the figure under the covers made him jump a little.

"For Christ's sake! Just get in the damn bed, Alfred! I said it was alright!" England flopped over, opening one tired eye to look at him with a frown (and a slight blush) on his face, "Are you coming in, or not?" The country was trying to sound as harsh as possible, but his voice kept cracking and swapping over to the voice he used to use on the younger America so long ago.

"Yeah..." Alfred murmured, consenting to his brother's will and sinking into the warm covers as if they were a jacuzzi.

Arthur shifted away a little to give him room, despite his ridiculously overwhelming urge to inch closer.

He didn't have to inch closer; America did that all by himself.

The straw-blond country's hair brushed gently, like stranded silk, against the bare skin of his chest as his companion settled himself in and twisted diagonally, his feet in the far left corner and his head putting a light weight against the rise-and-fall of his breathing.

"A-Alfred? What are you doing?!" Arthur said as he struggled to control his breathing.

"What?" Alfred asked innocently, as he cracked open his baby blues again to look up, "And, hey, why's your heartbeat so fast all of a sudden?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?! I'm **not **a pillow!"

_'It feels so nice... But I can't let him know!'_

"But, my pillow is all the way in the other room!"

_'That's alright, I'll let you use my chest, then. Wait, what am I thinking?! AGH!'_

"Go get your own pillow! You're fat, anyways!"

_'You're just fine the way you are, though, really...'_

"I've been trying to lay off of the fries, I swear!"

"SHUT UP!"

Alfred went silent and lifted his head from Arthur's chest. His worried face came back again.

_'Dammit, how does he **do **that?!'_

But instead of saying something else like England expected, America just turned over and laid his head on the sheets.

It was too quiet now and the silence- complete, utter silence- made his spine tingle.

Then, came his voice.

"...Iggy... are you mad at me?"

_' "Are you mad at me?" '_

It sounded so juvenile; a question asked by someone as old as a twelve year-old, no less. But Arthur found himself answering in a brotherly, forgiving voice where he'd usually use a cynical one. Maybe he was just going soft...

"No... I'm just... I have a lot on my mind... It's not your fault."

_'It really **is** halfway your fault, though...'_

"Oh, okay..." he was quiet for a few seconds, "Iggy...?"

"Hm...?"

"Can I... can I tell you about my nightmare?"

Arthur shifted up so that he could prop his weight on one elbow.

"Was it the one about the ghosts, again?"

Alfred's eyes darted down to the covers for a minute in shame.

"Yeah..."

A thin smile spread accrost Arthur's face and he patted his chest with his palm.

"Tell me about it, sport."

"Alright!" Alfred said, his voice picking up cheerily as he droned off into his scary ghost dream.

Allowing a full-grown man to sleep with him? Listening to bad dreams?

Yup. He was definately going soft.

* * *

_A/N: Well, that was the end to this little segment! The next chapter'll have many more of the countries in it, so stay tuned! Thanks for your support!_


	6. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Hey, everyone! After some delay, Chapter 5 is finally out! Hooray! I'm especially proud of this chapter, because I finally got to the meat of the story! Be prepared for a lot of drama in this one! Oh, and I also added in Matthew as requested! Sorry for his part being such a little part, though... Anywho, disclaimer time!_

_Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters (although I may wish I did XD).**_

_Alright! Let's get this story started!_

* * *

_**Setting: **_America's House

**Time: **7:30 A.M.

* * *

He woke up to laughter.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and the laughter was trailing up to his room in peals.

What the heck was wrong with them?! Didn't they have better things to do than annoy him?

Thinking about this, he shook his head.

Apparently not.

England sat up and attempted at taming his short hair out of its bed-head state by running his fingers through it. Not succeeding at that, his gaze wandered over to where America had been the night before.

The sheets were crumpled down and the corner of the comforter drooped messily over onto the floor.

No Alfred there.

Arthur grumbled and slid out of the bed himself, then walked out the door and padded down the stairs in a daze.

Six heads turned as he came down and the room suddenly fell silent.

"Heya, Iggy!~" Alfred trilled after a few awkward moments of silence. Sitting in a group around him were France, China, Russia, Italy (for God knows **what **reason), and someone else, he thought, but maybe, in his sleepy stupor, he was just imagining things.

"..." England turned slowly on his heel, his intent to go back to his room as soon as possible, but a voice interrupted him.

"Aw, Arthur looks so adorable in his undies, oui?"

Arthur was down the stairs and attempting to choke France in a second, blushing furiously.

"France, you bastard!"

France immediately began to fight back and started pushing England's face away with his palm.

"You're the one who chose to come down in your underwear; don't yell at me for your stupidity!"

Arthur jerked at a lock of Francis's curly, blond hair.

"You're such a perv, you pervy baka!"

"Stop it, aru!" Someone pleaded as a new voice entered into the fight, "We don't need anyone to get hurt!"

"I'll be fine as long as I can rip this idiot's mouth off of his face!"

"You're just jealous of my looks!"

The new voice sighed. "Aiyah... Well, I didn't want to do this, aru... but..."

Suddenly, something hard and metal slammed into both France and England's heads.

"Ow, hey!" They both yelped in unison.

Their attacker, China, put on a worried look on his face that looked rather motherly and lowered the wok in his hand.

"I'm sorry. But it was the only thing that could snap the two of you out of it, aru..."

Arthur growled and rolled his eyes as he straightened up.

"Whatever... I'm going to put some pants on." he mumbled, leaving the room and trudging up the stairs to his room.

_'That doof... he could've at least warned me he'd invited company over...' _Arthur thought irritably as he pulled a pair of his green army pants on.

Of course, America was America, though. He should've expected as much for him to do something like that.

The thought of America yesterday when he'd said he wasn't going to bed yet after the game of bowling popped into Arthur's head.

Was a bunch of people seeing him in his undergarments supposed to cheer him up?

Probably.

Did it?

No.

Rather the opposite. But, it was sweet of him to try.

"Hey, Iggy?" Alfred's voice entered into the silent room.

"Hm?" Arthur murmured as he set hastily to buttoning up his pants button and tugged on his matching army coat and tie.

"Are you okay? You've been up here for a while..."

Arthur closed his eyes to try to aid in containing his anger.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I simply _adored _the rude awakening..." he snarled through clenched teeth.''

Alfred's lower lip jutted out a little, and this simple action made him want to take Alfred into his arms and tell him it was okay and that he wasn't really mad, after all. But, he reminded himself that he had every reason to be frustrated with him and there were about five people downstairs - one of them he really didn't want to even see (*cough* France *cough* XD).

"I'm sorry, Iggy..." I thought you would like it if-"

"_Like _it?! If you were trying to "cheer me up" as you said, then you wouldn't have invited that idiot, France! And those other people! I don't want to see them, either! As a matter of fact, I didn't want to be here in the first place! All I wanted was to get my damn tea and bring it back home!" he finished in a huff, his face red from yelling.

Alfred looked dumbfounded, startled, and a little hurt. A wave of regret tried to wash over him, but Arthur fought it away before it dragged him under and, instead, honed in on his own frusteration.

"Iggy...I'm sorry...I-" America began again. Somehow, he'd managed to tap into his little kid's look again.

"No. It's fine. I'm leaving." Arthur spat out on a split-second decision as he spun around and stormed down the stairs towards the front door. America followed him earnestly.

The eyes of those gathered in the living room followed them as they went by.

"But, where will you go?" Alfred called after him as he reached the front doors to the house.

Arthur froze, his hand on the laminated wood of the door, his eyes staring at it.

Finally, under his breath, he replied: "Back home, or maybe to China. Anywhere but in this bugger of a country!" And with that, he retreated outside, the door slamming in front of America's face.

America stared, as if in a trance, at the door and then walked back to join the others in the living room.

No one dared to say anything as America slumped down into a recliner chair like a zombie, except for the person sitting over in a far corner.

"No one noticed me..." he mumbled as he hugged a small, white bear to his body. The bear turned to look up at him.

"Who're you?"

* * *

**Somewhere in America (near Alfred's house)**

**12:00 Noon**

**Moody Joe's Bar and Grill**

* * *

England slammed his glass down on the bar counter so that it slopped its fizzing contents over the rim.

"Hit me again." he croaked, laying his forehead back on the counter on the top of his folded arms.

"Another round?" the bartender, a heavily-tattooed man of 30, asked in his bass voice as he wiped his hands on the rag that was on the counter and took the glass back again.

"What do _you _think?" Arthur grumbled miserably under his breath as he hiccuped and glared up at him.

The bartender shrugged it off after frowning for a second and turned around to prepare the drink.

Meanwhile, Arthur was busy thinking about how in hell he was going to pay for the bill when he'd left his wallet at Alfred's house.

That bluff he'd made to Alfred about going back to Britain? Totally unrealistic considering the amount of money he'd blown in the states. It would take a miracle for him to get enough money to fly back again, yet alone buy any tea, which he was seriously deprived of since all America'd had in his home was coffee.

What did it matter? His head was beginning to throb and make it impossible to think, anyways. He would get home somehow. Yes, he'd find a way, and heck! He'd do it right now!

Pushing his chair back, Arthur slid down off of it onto his feet and began wobbling in his drunken, unsteady pace to the door.

Alerted by the screeching sound that Arthur's chair had made, the bartender turned back around and called over the counter at him.

"Hey, you have to pay before you leave!" he yelled, as he ducked his head under the elevated shelving of the bar.

"Pay for this." Arthur called over his shoulder at him as he flicked a bird at the bartender with a drunken smile on his face.

"Why, you little...!" the bartender hissed back as he threw down his apron that had been around his waist and made his way around the counter towards Arthur.

The bells on the door handle rang to signal that a new customer had come in, and Arthur bumped straight into the chest of a familiar blond male.

"Iggyyy!~" Alfred sang happily, a relieved look upon his face. Arthur looked up at him dopily.

"You!" he hiccuped and swallowed before he was able to talk again, "You... got me into this!"

Alfred grinned hopelessly and quirked an eyebrow at his big brother. He thought England was so cute drunk, yet so weird.

"What are you talking about, Iggy? You're making no sense."

"I'm talking about you, Baka-America! Baka! Baka! Baka! Ba-!"

The bartender, having reached England, grabbed the Britt by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back from America.

"Look, punk. Either you pay, or I beat you to a pulp!"

"How about you go fuck a pig? You sure look like one!" Arthur slurred.

"You little brat!" the bartender roared as he jerked Arthur's collar backwards so that it was choking him, "Pay up!"

"Hey." Alfred interrupted, stepping forward and clasping his hand around the bartender's wrist, "What's your problem?"

The bartender leered at Alfred instead, but didn't release his grip on Arthur's collar.

"_My _problem is this little deliquent! He won't pay up! Is he a friend of yours?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Well, then. I bet you wouldn't want to see him get hurt, so you better talk some sense into him!"

"Why don't I just pay for him?"

The bartender seemed to ponder over this for a minute, then replied with a flat, "No."

"Why not?"

"Because this kid needs to learn some manners! Would be good for a bastard like him!" he jerked back even rougher on Arthur's collar, causing Arthur's face to pale considerably.

By this point in time, Alfred was shaking from anger. He didn't usually get mad, but seeing someone so deliberately hurting his brother right in front of him was pushing him right over the edge.

"You know, what? I think _you _need some manners!" Alfred spat as he pulled his arm back and then swung his fist forward again.

His punch collided with the man's face and, almost instantly, a stream of amber began pouring from his nose, the man crying out in pain. The bartender let go of Arthur to clutch his nose with a hand and shot a punch at Alfred's face. The punch successfully hit Alfred, knocking his glasses askew but, thankfully, not breaking them. His eye itself took most of the damage.

Arthur was ready to launch another punch, but the bartender was forced to retreat due to the amount of bloodflow from his injury.

Having been released, Arthur fell forward onto Alfred's chest, gasping softly for air, his face whiter than before and his eyes bloodshot from the combination of stress, lack of sleep, and too much alcohol.

"You're both mad! That's it! I'm calling the cops!" the bartender threatened as he disappeared into the hallway that supposedly lead towards the kitchen.

Alfred watched to make sure the bartender was gone before he looked down at Arthur.

"Iggy, are you alright?"

Arthur didn't answer, but kept his face buried in his chest.

"Iggy... you're worrying me... say something."

Slowly, Arthur raised his face up and looked up at his brother.

"You really are a baka." he breathed.

Alfred, whom looked as if he might be developing a black eye at this point, managed to chuckle a bit before Arthur pulled at his shirt weakly.

"Hm? What is-?" But before he could finish his question, Arthur's lips were pressed against his hard.

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise initially, but he soon went with it and pressed back, tasting the alcohol fresh on Arthur's lips, but not caring. He wrapped his arms firmly around his brother's waist and pulled him closer.

Arthur reached up and began to entangle his fingertips within Alfred's hair, pushing himself as close to him as possible.

When they finally broke apart, they were both sucking in air, but Arthur even more so. Who knew that he even knew how to kiss, as stuffy as his personality usually was.

"That was... that was good!" Alfred heaved in between breaths, a bright grin lighting up on his face, making it shine like a lightbulb.

"..."

"Iggy?"

No response except for Arthur's labored breathing.

"What's going on? You-you look pale..."

As if the very mention of him looking sickly had caused his body to give out, Arthur's knees buckled and he started falling to the side.

"Ah! I-I got'cha!" Alfred's voice cracked as he caught him just in time before he hit the ground.

Squatting down, Alfred laid Arthur's head on his thigh and placed the back of his palm on his sweaty forehead. He felt the wave of heat coming off of England's skin and looked around in a panic.

Seeming to make up his mind, then, he pulled Arthur up enough so that he could drape his arm around his shoulder and pull him out towards his car.

"C'mon, Iggy. I'm taking you to the hospital!"

* * *

**Somewhere in America (nearby)**

**8:00 P.M.**

**East Mountain Hospital**

* * *

Arthur felt as if he'd woken up in some sort of alien world.

To the left, a strange machine linked to a couple of tubes. To the right, a small T.V. set pushed to the side and two visitor's chairs, one occupied by a dozing Alfred.

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but all he recieved was a rush of air that almost choked him and took him by surprise.

_'What the-?'_

Looking down, he realized that there was an oxygen mask over his mouth. Grunting, he gripped it and pulled it off over his face, taking a gasp of fresh air.

After a closer inspection of his damages, he noticed that the odd machine was feeding a clear liquid to an IV in his arm, and there was a deep, red line where his collar, now open, had strangled him.

"What happened...?" Arthur mumbled gruffly as he rubbed the line on his neck.

Sitting there, his memories suddenly came back to him, but a bit blearily. He remembered being mad at Alfred, going to the bar and drinking *so that's why he had a killer headache...*, being strangled by that crazy bartender that belonged in an asylum or, at the least, an anger program, and... _the kiss_.

Arthur couldn't help but to heat up at the memory, and the other machine in the room reacted; peaking to high levels that showed his heart rate. God, he'd been more drunk than he'd thought...

It was 8:00 P.M. ... he was going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow.

A knock on the closed door sent a jolt through his body and he fumbled to put on his oxygen mask, then fell back onto the bed, pulling the sheets over himself.

A split-second later, a nurse came in carrying a clipboard. Arthur watched her through a slight crack in his eyelids.

She wore a pristine, white uniform with the stereotypical red cross marking on her shirt pocket and hat. Her hair was in a tight bun, and a stethescope hung limply around her neck.

Smoothly, she glided through the room like a ghost, and checked a reading on what was probably the oxygen machine. Apparently, she approved of the machine's reading, because she nodded her head and walked again to the side the guest chairs were on.

"Excuse me." her pixie-like voice (which was rather obnoxious) broke the silence. She tapped lightly on Alfred's shoulder, and his head lolled up drowsily, his eyes half-opening and blinking from the light.

"Sorry, but it's 8:00. Visitor hours are over, now."

"Ah... Alright, I'll go, then..." Alfred mumbled almost inaudibly.

"Wait!" Arthur blurted, fluttering his eyes open and sitting up really fast. Due to the mask, his voice reminded himself of a character called "Darth-... something" in one of those films Alfred had forced him to watch.

The nurse paled as if she'd just seen a ghost, obviously startled at his sudden outburst (although Arthur didn't understand that figure of speech sicne he didn't find ghosts scary at all...). "Um, yes? What is it?" the nurse asked, regaining her composure a little.

"Iggy! You're awake!" Alfred cheered, looking as if he was yearning to pounce upon him and hug him to death.

"I want him to stay." Arthur said firmly, with authority.

The nurse gave a nervous smile. Clearly, she didn't get out much. "I'm sorry, sir, but it may not be good for your condition..."

Arthur closed his eyes, his brow wrinkling in irritation. "Look, I don't care about my bloody condition. If you don't let him stay, I'll get worse." He reached over to his hand with the IV and acted as if he was getting ready to undo the bandaging and pull it out.

"No, don't!" the nurse panicked.

Arthur cracked open his right eye and looked at her, a smug smirk on his face. "What is it?" he asked nonchalantly.

The nurse's voice dropped to a low whisper. "Fine. He can stay. But I'm not responsible if someone comes in and notices."

"That's fine," Arthur agreed, " You can go, now." he said, waving her away with his hand.

The nurse scowled a bit, but backed up and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"... Thanks, Iggy." Alfred thanked warmly, grabbing one of the plastic chairs and sliding it to Arthur's bedside.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah. Don't mention it... Really. _Don't._"

Alfred broke into a wider grin and let out a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, Iggy. Whatever," He then looked around, drumming his fingers on his kneecaps, "Hey, what can we do around here?"

Arthur put on a dull face. "Besides sleep?"

"Psh! Sleep's for bums!"

"Says the guy who slept all day."

"Hey, you were out, too!"

Arthur huffed, displeased with not having a comeback for this. "Fine. We can do something... But what is there to do in a hospital room, besides read bad magazines about dieting...?"

"Well...," Alfred muttered, a light blush to his cheeks, "I liked what we did earlier..."

Arthur's skin prickled. He knew what Alfred was mentioning.

"You mean... you want to...-"

Alfred nodded sheepishly.

"Uh, um..." Arthur didn't know what to say, but he somehow couldn't turn him down, "I guess... that'd be... alright..." He was blushing so hard, it was a wonder his face didn't fall off.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then, Alfred seemed to snap to attention.

"Ah. I guess I'll have to come up there since you're, uh..." he pointed to the IV.

"Yeah..."

"Alright..." Alfred got up and kicked the chair back a little with his foot, then he put his knee up on the bed and pulled himself up.

Being the only comfortable position, he found himself over Arthur, his knees on either side of his chest and his hands pinning Arthur on either side of his head. "Hang on." Alfred whispered, gently tugging at the oxygen mask to remove it.

This time, Alfred made the first move - leaning in and molding his lips to Arthur's. This caused their bodies to glue together; the only thing seperating them was their clothes.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Arthur gave into his desire. His fingers worked nimbly at popping the buttons free from their holes on Alfred's shirt.

Alfred mimicked him, undoing Arthur's shirt as well. But, his next move was to unzip Arthur's pants.

Momentarily, Arthur struggled. "Hey, A-america! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

Alfred paused at his task and looked up at Arthur quizzically. "You don't want to?"

Damn.

"... Well, I wouldn't _protest _against it..." England whispered, turning his blushing face to the side.

Alfred smiled lovingly at his brother and reached forward to carress Arthur's face in his hands, also forcing him to look at his face.

"I love you."

"... I love you, too."

* * *

_Author's Note: AND THUS, England and America became one! XDDD Yeah... as this is rated PG-13, I'm stopping THAT little detail right there. Anyways, review, review, review! See everyone next chapter!_


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